


The Recruit

by irishgirl321



Series: Agent Bedivere [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Agent Bedivere, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Godfather!Harry Harte, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Murder, Prequel, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirl321/pseuds/irishgirl321
Summary: That was the thing. No matter how much he hoped that you would choose a different path in your life, this is the only one you've ever wanted. You had been part of their family since you were two weeks old. Now it was time to officially join their ranks.*Prequel to an Eggsy x Reader story*Eggsy won't appear in this story, except for a cameo at the very end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So when I started writing this I didn't think I'd have to do a prequel. I figured I'd give you a bit on Bedivere's background and leave it at that. However, the more I thought out her story, the more she took on a life of her own. Bedivere is confident, intelligent, and headstrong, and she had a life long before Eggsy rocked up. I felt like she deserved a proper introduction. Another reason for this is to help explain her abrasive attitude at the start of 'The Instructor.' I'm hoping by showing how close she was with Lancelot, and all the other things that happened to her, you will see her in more of a sympathetic light rather than considering her as simply a mean bitch. 
> 
> I know you guys are most likely here for Eggsy, so I've tried to keep the chapters as short and snappy as I can, not lingering too long on her other romantic relationships. This might make her seem like she hops from guy to guy, but in reality this story is meant to span around 9-11 months. But yeah, hope you enjoy!

“Agent Galahad, I need to talk to you.” Arthur’s voice held a note of sobriety that made Harry immediately look up from his desk, a frown on his face.

“What is it, Arthur?”

The older man shook his head, eyes darting around. “Not here. You won’t… You won’t want to hear this out here. Follow me.”

Harry felt his palms beginning to heat up, but other than that he showed no sign of the nervousness he felt growing inside him. Arthur often asked to speak with him in private, usually about missions and such, but there was something … different this time. A hesitation on his face. It made Harry uneasy.

However, he was a Kingsman, a spy. He was good at maintaining control. Instead of demanding to know then and there, he simply nodded, pushing himself away from his desk. He took hold of the bottom of his blazer, tugging it down sharply to straighten it. Arthur watched him, and Harry gestured for his superior to lead the way.

The two men took off, striding down the carpeted hallway towards Arthur’s office in a tense silence. Harry kept his head pointed directly ahead, at the door at the end of the corridor but he could not stop himself from glancing over from the corner of his eyes, trying to glean something from Arthur’s face. _Nothing._

It seemed to take him forever to reach the door at the end of the hall. Arthur opened it smoothly, entering first, while Harry followed and closed the door behind him. His boss approached his desk, rounding it to seat himself heavily in the large chair at the other side. He sighed, elbows resting on the armrests, his chin resting against clasped hands. Harry stood in-front of the desk respectfully, arms behind his back.

“Take a seat,” Arthur gestured, and so Harry did.

He watched as his boss leaned over the desk, plucking up a whiskey decanter and pouring some into two cups on the desk in-front of him. He nodded to Harry, who took one with a respectful thanks. He sat back, glass of amber liquid still in his hand, waiting for Arthur to speak.

His boss rubbed a tired hand across his face. Gathering himself, he took a gulp of whiskey. Harry didn’t move, worry now gnawing at him.

Eventually, Arthur spoke. “There is no easy t say this… So I’ll just come out with it. We have had word from Kent. Selene, Harry… Selene is dead.”

Harry froze, hardly able to breathe. His grip on the glass tightened. Arthur stared at him, waiting for a reaction. Slowly, Harry began to shake his head.

“No. There has to be some kind of mistake,” Harry said, a slightly tremor in his voice. “I spoke to her yesterday. She was fine…”

 ***

_She had laughed down the line, her voice happy. He could hear her husband singing along to the radio in the background. She had been berating him, giving out to him for not having come to visit his new goddaughter just yet, but he knew she wasn’t truly mad at him. She never was._

_“Come on,” she said, “she’s dying to meet you!”_

_He laughed, albeit slightly forced. “I sincerely doubt that, dear. She’s a baby.”_

_“Harry, I haven’t seen you in ages…”_

_He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, reigning back the sadness he felt as he heard a baby squeal in the background. “I know. It’s just work. It’s very busy at the moment…”_

_It wasn’t work. It was the fact that his best friend, the woman he secretly loved all these years, had just had a baby. With somebody else._

_“Hart, don’t give me that. How busy can a tailor’s shop be?”_

 ***

“It was a car accident,” Arthur continued, face twisting in sympathy. “Both her and her husband perished. I’m very sorry, Harry. Truly I am.”

Harry shook his head, a warm lump growing in his throat. _It wasn't true. It couldn’t be true._ “No. This is wrong. There’s a mistake…”

“I assure you there isn’t,” Arthur said, not unkindly. “I went to check myself. It’s her, Harry. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“No,” Harry breathed, slumping over in his seat. His hand was shaking, so that whiskey sloshed against the edge of the glass. “No. You’re wrong.”

“She’s dead, Harry.”

“No!” He exclaimed angrily, fists tightening. In his hand, the glass shattered. Shards rained down, decorated in whiskey and blood. Arthur stared at Harry’s hand, the weeping lines of red now drawn across his skin. “You’re wrong!” Harry bellowed, rising to his feet. His hands went to his hair, tugging at his roots. He could feel strands ripping from his scalp, but didn’t stop. The pain was nothing to what he felt inside.

_No. She wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be dead._

“Harry,” Arthur said hurriedly, trying to calm him down.

_She was gone. She was gone, and there was nothing left._

And the door opened behind them.

Merlin stepped in, face twisted in sympathy. Cradled carefully in his hands, he held a small white bundle. A loud squeal emerged from the depths of the fabric. Harry stopped pulling, breathing heavily. His eyes were fixed on the bundle Merlin so carefully carried. A small, chubby arm emerged from the nestle of blankets, waving around in the air.

_Oh._

Harry felt the whole world fall away again. All he could focus on was that blanket. He had to see for himself what was in it. He pushed himself away from the desk, staggering slightly. His hands trembled. Merlin moved forward, concerned eyes on Harry’s face, but Harry wasn’t looking at him. Drawing to an unsteady halt in-front of Merlin, Harry reached forward and carefully peeled back the cloth with a shaking hand.

Large, wide eyes peered up curiously at him. He could see smooth skin, and a fuzzy patch of hair on top of the small head. The baby cooed, fist waving just in-front of his eyes.

“Is this..?” Harry asked breathlessly, hardly daring to breathe.

“Yes,” Arthur said. “The infant survived without a scratch.”

Smiling through watery eyes, Harry reached out and gently offered his index finger. A small, chubby hand wrapped around it, and Harry broke. His chest wracked with sobs, and he sucked in breath after breath. Unable to speak, he just reached out pleadingly. Wordlessly, Merlin handed him the baby.

He bowed over her tiny body, tear droplets falling into the towel she was nestled in. She looked at him worriedly, as if she understood he was upset. He thought she might cry too, but she remained silent. He tried to reign in his emotions, but found that he couldn’t. A tiny fist touched his face, and he held onto that touch, using it as the anchor with which he’d pull himself back.

Slowly, he regained control on his breathing. Merlin patted him on the back, eyes averted as he stared at the little baby Harry now held. His goddaughter. A few minutes of silence passed, and then Arthur cleared his throat and started again.

“You are the child’s godfather, which also means you are her legal guardian. You are now responsible for what happens to her, who she goes to. The uncle is willing to take her-”

“No,” Harry snapped. “Not him.” The man had a horrible temper. No way was this child going anywhere near him.

“I thought that may be the case. I’ve already contacted several adoption agencies, and I assure you we’ll find her the best home-”

“What?!” Harry snapped, rounding on him. He could still feel his tears tracking down his cheeks. “You expect me to just _give her away_?”

Arthur looked confused and cynical all at once. “Forgive me, I thought you wouldn’t want to be burdened with a reminder of the woman you loved and lost.”

“She’s not a burden,” Harry said defensively, shifting the child in his arms. “She’s a baby.”

“In any case,” Arthur continued, “you are a Kingsman. We do not have families. It’s not our way. Really, Harry, I thought you would see the bigger picture here...”

Harry stared at his boss evenly. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “No. She’s not going anywhere.”

“Do you even know the slightest thing about parenthood?” Arthur snapped, his patience beginning to fray.

“Does anyone?” Merlin interjected smoothly before Harry could angrily react. “No disrespect intended, Arthur, but Harry has lost enough today. Maybe this conversation is best left for another time-”

“Not necessary,” Harry snapped. “She’s my goddaughter. I’m keeping here. And if you won’t allow that… Well, you can bloody well find yourself a new Galahad.”

Arthur arched a brow. Harry could tell he was taken aback, but covered it well. It was a risky move, a power play if there ever was one. Harry was good at what he did, and he knew it. Arthur would be loathe to let him go. But there was always the chance he felt strongly enough about this that he would be willing to replace him.

Merlin shifted, looking uncomfortable. Harry just stared evenly at Arthur, waiting for him to make his verdict. In the blanket, the child squealed again. The sound brought the faintest smile to Harry’s face, somewhat dulling his aching heart. Suddenly he knew that no matter what Arthur said, he was doing the right thing.

Eventually, the older man sighed, lifting his arms in defeat. “Fine. You can keep the infant. But this is not to interfere with your job or duties, Galahad. Hire a nanny, do what you need to, but Kingsmen come _first_ , do you understand?”

Harry nodded, relief flooding through him. “Yes, sir.”

Arthur waved him out without another word, obviously too annoyed to keep him there. Harry and Merlin left the office together, striding down the hall. They didn’t speak for a few minutes, as Harry quietly fussed over his precious new bundle and Merlin watched him. Eventually, they reached the end of the hallway. Merlin would turn left and head to his office, and Harry would go downstairs and leave. However, the other man hesitated.

“D’you want some help right now?” Merlin asked. “You probably need to Mothercare or somethin’.”

Harry almost laughed, the idea seemed so absurd. But this was his life now.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he said softly, “but I would indeed appreciate the help.”

“We got some stuff,” Merlin indicated to a bag by the stairs. “Formulas and all. Figured either way one of us would be looking after the wee thing tonight. God bless her, the poor little mite.”

“Mother and father both gone,” Harry said sadly. The thought of the infant’s mother brought a pang on anguish to him, and he closed his eyes to fight against it. “She has no family left.” He didn’t count the uncle.

Merlin’s hand once more landed on his shoulder, patting it reassuringly. “She has you. You won’t give up on her. She’ll have me too, and hell, even old Bedivere was fussing over her before I brought her in t’ya. Arthur will come around, you’ll see.”

“You think?” Harry asked.

“Look at that wee face,” Merlin chuckled, gesturing into the blanket. “How could you not?”

Harry looked, and he had to agree. _How could you not?_

 

***

 

It was almost laughable. A group of the deadliest men in the world, all trained spies, ruthless killers, reduced to doting messes by one tiny little girl. You had captivated Harry almost immediately, but the others had fallen just as swiftly. It had nothing to do with the fact you were your mother’s daughter, but more because you were the sweetest infant he’d ever seen in his life. He could tell you loved him by the way your eyes lit up and you squealed with glee whenever he came near.

The only one who wasn’t all that interested was Arthur. Harry didn’t miss the way his face twisted in disdain when Harry brought you to the manor. He never said anything, but Harry could see it. That was until that one day.

Harry brought you over for dinner. Afterwards, everyone was sitting out on the tiled patio overlooking the gardens, sipping wine as a soft breeze blew through the air. Arthur was standing, talking to Palmedes. You were on Harry’s lap, happily drinking juice from your sippy cup, when you began to struggle. He tried to calm you down, but you were adamant.

“Down!” You cried, face twisting in upset. “Want down!”

“Okay, okay,” Harry said, carefully placing you on the ground.

You nodded to yourself, filled with the sense of purpose that only a one year old could possess. Taking another swig from your sippy cup, Harry watched as your eyes swept over the room. Something caught your attention, and you began to toddle away from your adoptive father. He kept a careful eye on you, knowing what mischief you could make.

The others called to you as you passed, each trying to get you to come over. Though you paused at Merlin, you carried on. It was the attention of one specific person that you were after. Harry watched as your small hand reached up, tugging on Arthur’s trouser leg. The man in question looked down curiously, frowning slightly when he saw you. He inched away slightly, but you staggered after him.

Holding your arms out, you demanded. “Up.”

Arthur glanced around, almost slightly nervous. His eyes fixed on Harry, who was watching him with amusement on his face.

“No thank you,” Arthur said politely. “Go away now.” He held out his hands and made a motion, like he was shooing a dog.

Your hand grabbed his arm. “Up, up,” you said, reaching out to him.

“No, go back to your father,” Arthur said impatiently.

“No,” you replied. There were tears in your eyes. “Up.”

Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes. Gingerly he knelt down, lifting your small body off the ground and into his arms. You let out a shriek of happiness. Harry watched as you kicked your legs against Arthur’s chest, before leaning forward and snuggling your face into his neck. Your little arms clung to him, hugging him tightly.

A look of shock and surprise crossed the older man’s face. Leaning back, you looked at him full in the face, a beaming smile on your face. Chubby hands picked up the necklace hanging around his neck, playing with the gold chain.

“Do you like that?” Arthur asked, more friendly.

You nodded.

“It’s gold,” he told you. You listened intently. “I got it in Egypt,” he continued.

“Sand,” you commented.

“Yes, well done,” he nodded. “There’s lot of sand in Egypt. You’re very clever. Did you know they have pyramids there too?”

You shook your head.

“Would you like to see some pictures?” Arthur asked. He was smiling now, grinning widely at you. Harry watched him shift you in his arms, holding you tighter to his chest.

You nodded, touching the old man’s face with a small, gentle hand. Harry could see it in his eyes. Arthur was a goner too.

After that, when Harry went on missions, it was Arthur who would take care of you through his absences. He looked after you. The granddaughter he had never had.

You were some special to all of them. None had families of their own. Kingsmen weren’t meant to. You were the closest thing to a child any of them would have. Their family. They loved you, and you loved them.

 

***

 

TWENTY TWO YEARS LATER 

 

You barely manage to deflect the blow. It glanced off your raised upper arm, sending you staggering back a few paces. Gritting your teeth, you quickly recovered, moving into a defensive posture once again.

“Remember to keep your feet shoulder width apart,” he said calmly. His eyes, though, sparkled with affection. “It cements your stance. But you’re doing well.”

“Thanks,” you said quickly, as you did as instructed.

He moved forward, striking at you again. It was a rapid stream of complex blows, almost too fast for you to follow. You barely managed to fend him off, staggering backwards. There was a split second of nothing, before his foot connected with your stomach and sent you sprawling. Landing heavily on the ground, you just lay there for a few seconds and wheezed. When it eventually subsided, you lifted your head and glared at the chuckling man with narrowed eyes.

“You can be a right wanker, you know that, right?” You said crossly.

“You need to learn to take a hit if you want to be a good fighter.”

“Excuse you,” you gasped. He leaned over, offering you his hand. Warm fingers closed around yours as he pulled you back to your feet. “You’ve been doing this for years.”

“And I was in the military before I joined,” Lancelot shrugged. “You haven’t been. If you want to be successful when the chance to become a Kingsman comes up, you need to be on par with the others.”

“If I ever get the chance,” you grumbled. “Harry is very adamant that I won’t be involved.”

You glanced back at the huge building off to your right, the country house. Currently standing on one of the wide lawns before the headquarters, you were waiting for your adoptive father to be done with a mission debrief. Lancelot had offered to train with you. He usually gave you lessons anyhow, but you both figured you’d seize the opportunity today as you waited.

Unlike the others, he was willing to spar with you. You mostly thought that this came from him only having met you two years ago, so unlike most of the rest of the Kingsmen he had not watched you grow up. While the others still viewed you as a girl, Lancelot saw a young woman. He treated you like an adult, something that the other men didn’t do. It was refreshing. Not to mention that he was attractive for an older guy.

“Ignore Harry,” he laughed. “He’ll come around.”

“I’m not so sure,” you responded.

“Wait and see, love. Wait and see. But for now, arms up, stance ready. We’re going again.”

You did as asked, dropping into a defensive position once more. Lancelot came at you once more, and this time you lasted slightly longer before hitting the ground. Grumbling, you pushed yourself upright. Narrowing your eyes, you took a breath to clear your mind. Replaying his moves in your mind, you realised something.

After he threw a punch, he always ducked left.

This time when he rushed for you, you were ready. Fending off kicks and elbows, you waited. He swung for your stomach, you dodged, sidestepping. Swinging your fist, you aimed just to the left of his current position. And he stepped right into it. His eyes widened in surprise as his nose crunched, spurting blood. Caught off guard, he staggered back. Launching yourself into the air, you planted both feet into his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. You landed crouched over his chest, hand closed over his throat.

For a moment he just stared at you, blood running down his face. You froze, suddenly aware that you may have gone too far. For a moment you simply stared at him with wide, panicked eyes. And then he began to laugh, gently pushing you off him. Springing to your feet, this time you helped him up.

He swayed slightly, wincing as his hand cupped underneath his nose. Shooting you a rueful smile, he spoke fondly. “Finally.”

You just shrugged, feeling incredibly pleased with yourself. Lance laughed, clapping you on the shoulder with his free hand. With his other, he cupped underneath his nose to try staunch the bloodflow. “I need to go to the medical ward. I think you broke my nose.”

“Sorry,” you winced.

He waved you off. “Accidents happen. I’ll get you back.” The last part was said with a good natured wink, showing he was only joking.

Your elbowed his side, before gently taking hold of his arm. “Come on, I’ll go with you.”

Too caught up in concern for your friend, you didn’t know the three men watching from the balcony of the house. Unaware, you trekked across the lawn, not feeling the eyes on you. Harry chewed his lip worriedly, while Arthur chuckled in amusement.  Merlin just stood there, emotionless. There was a proud glint in the older man’s eyes, and Harry didn’t like it. It made him uncomfortable, worried for your future

Arthur opened his mouth, and said the words Harry dreaded. The one’s he had heard many others whisper amongst themselves since your eighteenth birthday. “That one will make a fine Kingsman.”

Harry’s eyes met Merlin’s. The Scot didn’t say anything, just exhaled slightly heavier than usual. Harry knew Merlin felt the same way, that he didn’t want to risk you. But Arthur had just seen you beat Lancelot, not something that many of their current agents could do. It was impressive, but also terrifying.

He wondered if he’d done the right thing by keeping you, or if you would have been better off with an adoptive family.

At that moment, you glanced towards the balcony. Catching sight of them, you halted in your tracks. He could see the grin on your face from where he stood, feel the pride radiating off you. Sweeping your arms out, you gave them all a joking bow.


	2. Chapter 2

“Is he alright?!” You exclaimed desperately, skidding to a halt just outside the room.

Arthur was closing the door over behind him, the look on his face serious. When you burst through the door leading to the corridor, he halted. The door remained somewhat ajar and though you peered over his shoulder, you couldn’t see the man in question, only the bottom corner of the bed.

“He’s fine, dear one,” Arthur said reassuringly, hand landing on your shoulder. He squeezed it gently, looking at your pale, worried face. “Agent Bedivere is made of strong stuff, you need not worry.”

“Can I see him?”   

Arthur hesitated. “His… His back is broken. He should rest.”

You nodded, but then another voice rang out. It was weak and horse, but recognisable. 

“Let her in.”

You didn’t move, just stared at Arthur, waiting for his express permission. He held your gaze for a long moment, before nodding. Stepping back, you slid past him. The wood of the door was cool against your hand. Taking a deep breath to ready yourself, you lightly pushed it open and stepped in.

Vincent lay on the bed. His tired eyes locked on you as you slowly approached. You could see a breathing tube in his nose, and how he lay almost unnaturally still. He was usually so full of life, even at his age. It was strange to see his pale face and unmoving body.

“How are you?” You asked, feeling tears well up in your eyes.

You crossed the room, and stood hovering by his bed. You wanted to touch him, but you didn’t want to hurt him. Obviously seeing the distress  on your face, he gave you a gentle, reassuring smile. “It’s alright, my dear. Take my hand, and come sit down next to me.”

You smiled softly, and sank down beside him on the mattress. Slowly you reached out, taking his hand gently. He felt frail, and the tears in your eyes began to drip down your cheeks. You could hear him ‘shush’ you, and his fingers tightened around yours. 

“I’m alright, little one. In a few weeks I’ll be good to go.”

You nodded, swallowing the thick lump stuck in your throat. Part of wanted to tell him that that was the problem. This was the first time you had come close to losing a family member, and it terrified you. Though you were loathe to say it out loud, Vincent was getting old. He was in his early sixties, and the oldest member out of the active field agents. You weren’t sure if he could handle it anymore.

A knock on the door saved you from having to answer. 

Your gaze lifted and landed on Harry as he entered the room. His eyes were filled with concern, only increasing when he took in your wet face. 

“How’s the patient?” He asked softly, padding across to stand behind you. His hand fell to your shoulder, and the hand that wasn’t holding Vincent’s raised to grip it. “Arthur told me what happened.”

“I’m alright,” Vincent chuckled, “everyone is over-reacting.”

Harry nodded, though you could see by his face that he had something to say. He stared at Vincent for a few long seconds, before shifting his gaze to you.

“Peanut,” he said, using his nickname for you. “Will you give us a moment, please?”

You nodded, standing up. Getting to your feet, you bent down and pressed a light kiss to Vincent’s forehead. Afterwards you turned, coming face to face with Harry. The frown lines on his forehead had deepened, and his face was even more serious than usual. Wanting to do something to make him feel better, you stood on your tip-toes and kissed his cheek, before exiting the room.

You were obedient, but only to an extent. While you knew you should leave, allow Harry the privacy he asked for, you had to hear what he was going to say to Vincent. If it was something about his recovery, you wanted to know right now. Closing the door over, you did not shut it completely. You stood on the other side, ear pressed to the crack.

For a moment, you could not hear anything. And then Harry sighed.

“He sent you in to talk to me, didn’t he?” Vincent’s voice was gruff and begrudging.

“Yes,” Harry responded evenly. “For some unfathomable reason, he thinks that you will listen to me.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Vincent replied.

“And I assume you’re going to say no.”

“Exactly.”

“Vincent,  _ please _ . It’s going to take you a good while to recover from this accident, and broken backs don’t always just heal. You’ve had a good run and you have gone above and beyond in your duties, why don’t you retire from the field now?”

“I’m a Kingsman, Harry. I will be until I draw my last breath. You all expect me to give this up for some… for some fucking desk job?”

“You will always be a Kingsman, Vincent. But is it not time to consider passing the mantle on? With an injury like this… I don’t want to sound harsh, but I want you to understand. This is going to slow you down. Slowing down gets you killed. Is that really what you want?”

“I don’t want to be shipped off, I never took this occupation for being ageist.”

Harry let out a frustrated breath. “We’re not trying to ship you off. We’d still want you here, at a desk job, yes, but we still want you. You could coordinate missions, provide expertise. It’s just… We don’t want to lose you, and we’re not sure you’re able to handle it anymore.”

“I can handle things just fine,” Vincent snapped. “So, what happens? I take you up on this offer, get shuntered off, while you bring in some spoiled rich brat to take the name Bedivere?”

“We would recruit, yes.”

“Good luck with that. They don’t make ‘em like they used to anymore.”

“Vincent, that’s unfair. Now who’s being ageist?”

“No it isn’t! They’re all spoiled and soft! Not like back in my day, maybe even yours.”

“So you’re saying ____ is soft and spoiled, then?” Harry shot out.

You paused, waiting nervously to hear an answer. Suddenly, you found yourself wishing that you hadn’t eavesdropped. Hearing Vincent, someone you regarded like a kindly old uncle, say that you were soft and spoiled would seriously hurt. Especially when you’d worked your whole life to be so much more. 

A long pause stretched out. You held your breath. Vincent finally spoke.

“No,” he conceded gruffly, “no, your girl is not like that at all. She’s one of us.”

You felt a slight flush, and your skin prickled. You could hear the thoughtfulness permeating Vincent’s words.  _ Could he mean… _

“Exactly,” Harry replied, oblivious to what may be happening. “So would it be the worst thing if someone like _____ was to take up the mantle of Bedivere?”

You swallowed heavily, too nervous to even breathe. Your ear strained at the door as you waited for an answer.

“No,” Vincent repeated. “It would not be. She’s… She’s worthy. She could do a lot of good, that one. I don’t think I’d mind so much…”

“Good,” Harry seemed pleased with himself. “Now, would you be willing to take up our offer?”

“Potentially. On certain terms.”

“What terms?” 

“I’d like to propose them to Arthur, if you wouldn’t mind getting him?”

Harry agreed, and you heard footsteps crossing the room. Your eyes widened in panic, and you pushed yourself from the door and hurried away. The carpet quietened your rapid footfalls and you managed to round the corner as Harry walked out of the room. 

You waited, pressed against the wall. Ten minutes passed, and then you heard approaching voices. You stayed pressed against the wall, until you heard them go back into the room. The door closed with a click, and you cursed quietly. It would be harder to hear. 

Still, you snuck back to the door. The voices were still muddled, but you could make out part of the conversation.

“Absolutely not!” Harry was exclaiming. “You can’t be serious!”

“I certainly am,” Vincent replied steadily. “Who better to follow my path than her? If you want me to give up my title, my home, and my entire life, you can at least let me have a say on who will succeed me.”

“She’s not becoming a Kingsman,” Harry spat. “I won’t allow it.”

“She’s an adult,” Vincent replied. “She can do what she wants. And she has always wanted this.”

“No,” Harry growled. A sudden bang made the wall shudder, and your eyes widened.  _ Had he just hit it? _

“What do you think, Arthur?” Vincent asked.

You had almost forgotten that Arthur must be part of the conversation, as he was so silent. A few more seconds ticked by, before the leader spoke.

“She has always been one of us, unofficially. Maybe it is indeed time to make it official.”

Harry let out a frustrated yell.

“However,” Arthur continued, “it goes against tradition to just elect someone. She would still have to enter the recruitment process and compete against other candidates. She’ll have to find someone to put her forward. Unfortunately, Vincent, with you giving up your title you can’t suggest anyone for the position.” Your heart sank slightly. “Harry, I know you don’t want to risk her, and I myself can’t afford to get in the middle of this dispute. Therefore, my solution is this, if _____ can find someone to put her forward, she can enter the recruitment process. From there, it is a free for all.”

There was another long moment of silence, before both men begrudgingly agreed. You could tell Harry was speaking through gritted teeth, and knew he’d be red and seething with rage. In a way you could understand his protectiveness, you were all he had. But Vincent was right. It was your choice, and it had already been made.

You didn’t linger. Harry would be right out that door and on his way to the others, making a strong case for not putting you forward. Percival would listen to him for two reasons, that he didn’t want to risk you, and that he did not want to cross Harry. The others were a bit more up in the air, but you knew that Harry could sway most of them. There was only one person that you had a chance in getting on your side, someone who had always believed in you and made a point never to do what anyone told him.

_ Lance. _

You barrelled down the corridors, running at full tilt. Rounding the corner, your eyes fixed on his room. The door was shut, but you could see light seeping out from under it. He was there, thank  _ fuck _ . 

Throwing yourself at the door, your fists pounded upon it. It was loud enough to wake the dead, and indeed it seemed to. Suddenly the wood under your fists was gone as the door swung inwards. Lancelot stood there, his usually immaculate hair sticking up in all directions, and dark circles under his eyes. He was dressed in navy silk pyjamas. 

Unable to stop yourself, you arched a brow as you eyed his attire. “Seriously?”

He rolled his eyes, before yawning loudly. His arms stretched above his head. 

“Why are you here, love?” He asked. “I’m trying to get rid of this jet lag.”

Instead of immediately answering, you pushed past him into the room. He made a noise of protest, but you paid no heed. You heard him sigh, and the click as the door closed. His eyes followed you questioningly as you sat down heavily on his bed, one leg folded under you while the other dangled off the side.

He approached, but stopped a few feet away from you. Folding his arms, he regarded you silently as you searched for the words.

“Vincent’s retiring.”

Lancelot’s eyes widened in shock. “That old coot? Didn’t think he’d go down without a fight.”

“Harry managed to talk him into it,” you responded, eyeing the whiskey decanter on the table in the corner of the room. 

“Harry’s good at that,” Lance replied evenly.

Obviously following your gaze, he strode over. There was a clink as he filled two glasses halfway up with the amber liquid. He crossed the room silently, bare feet making no sound on the carpet. Rather than stand like before, he sank down on the mattress next to you. You could feel the slight pull of gravity making you lean into him as the mattress sunk slightly from his weight.

“Vincent had conditions,” you replied, moving your hand in a soft circular motion to swirl the whiskey in its glass. “A condition. That I become Bedivere.”

Lancelot started, then whistled softly. “Can’t say I didn’t see that coming at all, but I didn’t expect it right now.”

You nodded. “And Harry doesn’t want me to.”

Lancelot shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. “Look, love. If you’re here to ask me to talk to Harry, I’ll just let you know now that I’m not going to be able to change his mind.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” you said softly, taking a sip of whiskey. It burned your throat, and you made a face of disgust. Lance laughed slightly, but it quickly faded as he saw how serious you were. “Arthur said that he couldn’t just  _ give _ me the position, you know how he is about tradition and change. He said that if someone selected me as a candidate than I can go into recruitment… Vincent can’t put me forward as he’s not considered a Kingsman when he gives up his title… And you know Harry won’t…” You trailed off, knowing he could figure out the rest by himself.

Carefully, you watched his face. You saw his eyes widened slightly as he grasped why you had come here. Rather than immediately answer, he simply tipped his whiskey back and swallowed the whole lot of it in one go. He didn’t so much as flinch.

“You want me to put you forward,” he said flatly.

“Yes.” There was no point in beating around the bush.

Lance exhaled heavily, and you moved a bit closer to him. He started slightly as your hand landed on his shoulder, eyes boring into it.

“Love, you have to be aware of all of the risks of the job…”

“I know all the risks. I know what it means. Please,” you begged, “you know how much I’ve wanted this. I have always wanted to be one of you. And don’t give me the ‘you always have been’ bullshit, because it’s not the same and you know it.” Your hands rose to cup his face, staring into his eyes. One of your hands rose and began to stroke through his hair. It was fine and dark, with some grey strands mixed in. “Please, James.” You didn’t usually call him by his real name, and you could see that it had the desired effect.

He sighed in frustration, turning his head away from you to break the contact. “I hate it when you do that,” he half-muttered as your fingers ran through his hair, and despite the scenario you had to smile to yourself.

Everyone else here had known you and loved you since you were a baby. James, this Lancelot, had been recruited when you were nearly five, and then had travelled around the world nearly non-stop afterwards. You hadn’t met him until two years ago, when you were twenty. While everyone else here still somewhat saw you as the child they had raised, he saw you as a young women. Which was why you had gone to him. He wouldn’t feel that parental need to protect you as everyone else here did.

He groaned, reaching out to deposit his empty glass on the nightstand. Slumping over, he covered his face with his hands as your arm wrapped around his shoulders, fingers slowly stroking the side of his neck opposite your body. “Please.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he growled, shaking his head slowly. “Harry is going to  _ kill _ me.”

Relief flooded through you so fast that you almost dropped your own glass of whiskey. You hadn’t entirely believed that he would agree.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “James, thank you. Thank you so much!” You threw yourself at him, both arms wrapping around his hunched body. You buried your face in the back of his neck, hugging him tightly and continuing to thank him profusely.

He laughed, patting your arm, and then plucked your own glass of whiskey from your hands and downing that too. Also placing it on the nightstand, he rose to his feet and offered you his hand. “Come on then, before I change my mind.”

Eagerly you took it, and half dragged him down the many winding corridors to Arthur’s office. Your eyes swept the hallways nonstop, looking out just incase Harry appeared to throw a wrench into your plans. Lance scuffed his shoes on the ground as you knocked. 

“Come in,” Arthur called.

Pushing open the door, you once more took hold of Lancelot’s arm and tugged him in after you. Arthur watched you enter from his seat behind the large wooden desk, eyeing you with amusement over the rims of his spectacles. You smiled at him, slightly embarrassed as you realised it would now come to light that you had been eavesdropping.

“Took you long enough,” he simply remarked, causing your jaw to drop because  _ he had known you were outside all along _ ?! “I tried to give you a bit of a head start on Harry.”

“Much appreciated,” you chuckled, inclining your head. “Well, the deal was that I would get someone to put me forward, and I have. Lance is going to vouch for me.”

_ “Lance?” _ Arthur asked skeptically, always the sucker for politeness.

You saw Lancelot’s face colour slightly, and felt a blush dusting your cheeks also. “Agent _ Lancelot _ has agreed to put me forward for recruitment.”

Arthur nodded slowly, before switching his cool gaze to the pyjama-clad man beside you. “Is this true, James?”

Lancelot nodded slowly. “Yes, though I’ll probably need to get out of here for a few days before Harry finds me.”

“Likely,” Arthur agreed. “_____ and Mr Pickle are the only two things Harry was ever particularly over-protective about in his life.”

You laughed slightly at that. “I know he means well, it’s just… This is what I want, Arthur.”

“I know, dear one. I’ve always known.”

“So you accept my candidacy?” You asked calmly, though inside your heart was beating so loudly that you were surprised that the whole room didn’t hear it.

“Yes. Indeed I do.”

 

***

 

“I can’t believe that you didn’t tell him,” Lancelot groaned as you walked down the brightly lit corridor. 

All around you were white walls and stainless steel structures. It was immaculately clean, and despite being underground the air was refreshing. You were in the Kingsman’s base now, the proper heart of it. They’d never actually brought you down here before, but you had always dreamed of what it would look like. This had you regarding everything with almost a child-like wonder. 

Lancelot lead you down another hallway as you lightly clutched his arm. Soon enough, you reached the final turn. A large set of doors lay in-front of you, at the very end of the passage. Just as you approached them, they slid open soundlessly. A familiar head of dark hair stepped out, halting in place when he caught sight of you.

Harry watched your approach with confusion, which a split second later turned to anger when he caught sight of Lancelot with you, and realised what was happening. Jerking his movements slightly, he began to stride purposely forward. You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. You forced yourself to keep walking at a calm pace, trying to simply side-step around him when he reached you. However, his hands grasped your arms, spinning you to face him.

“Are you fucking joking?!” He hissed, so angry that he was almost spitting. “I told you, you can’t do this.”

“Dad,” you implored, trying to pull away. “I’m twenty-two. I can do what I want.”

“And  _ you!” _ Harry rounded on Lancelot, who took a step back and held up his hands in surrender. “I can’t believe you would help her with this!”

“Har, it’s what she wants,” he replied evenly, though he looked slightly intimidated.

“You can’t do this,” Harry snapped. “I won’t allow it.” Tightening his grip on your arm, he began to try and drag you down the corridor with him.

You twisted out of his grip, skipping a few steps backwards. “No. I’m going in there, and I’m going to become a Kingsman.”

“Not in this fucking world,” he snapped, lunging for you again.

“Why can’t you just me do this?!” You shouted, feeling angry tears well up in your eyes. “Am I not good enough? Do you not think I’ll make it?!”

“No,” Harry replied stoically, glaring at you. 

“Then what is it?!” You half-screamed, hands going to tug at your hair in frustration. “Why?!”

“Because I know you will!” He shouted. “I already lost your mother, I can’t fucking lose you too!”

You froze, breathing heavily as you stared at him. His head was hanging low, eyes on the ground. His hands rubbed at his face, and you could tell he was upset and agitated. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them back. Eventually, he looked up at you.

“You’re all I have,” he said simply. 

You stared at him for a long moment, unsure how to reply. In the end, you simply settled for. “I love you, Dad. And I want you to be happy with the choices I make. But they are  _ my _ choices.”

He swallowed heavily, before speaking again. His voice cracked slightly. “You’re everything to me.”

You smiled softly, stepping forward. One of your hands slowly lifted, cradling the side of his face. “This is what I want to do. Do you know why?”

He shook his head.

“Because I want to be exactly like you. I’ve always wanted to be  _ just like you _ . We may not share blood, but you were meant to be my father, and we were meant to be a team. A family. Now let me take my place in it.”

Your eyes bore into his, pleading with him to see your point. Seconds ticked by and he did nothing, before finally he sighed. His shoulder crumpled inwards, and he nodded defeatedly. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You could feel stubble under your lips. 

“I’ll make you proud,” you whispered. Retreating, you turned your gaze to take in Lancelot too. “I’ll make you both proud.”

Lance smiled softly, and you moved further away from Harry.

“You better get in there,” Lancelot called. “Go kick some ass.”

You grinned at him and turned to go. A hand caught your arm, stopping you. This time Harry’s hold was gentle. He reeled you back, pulling you into a tight hug. His breath ruffled your hair, and you allowed yourself a few moments to gain comfort from his smell and touch, burrowing your face into his shoulder.

“Good luck, peanut,” he whispered softly.


	3. Chapter 3

You flew through the training. Probably because you’d been preparing for this your whole life. While Harry hadn’t been keen on you joining the Kingsmen in the first place, he had wanted you to defend yourself, and had taught you self-defense from an early age. Plus, in the last two years you’d done all that secret combat training with Lancelot, to prepare yourself for this moment exactly. Your weapons scores weren’t as good, as Harry hadn’t taught you how to use a gun, but you picked it up quickly enough, soon rising to second place in that sector.

Merlin was careful not to show familiarity or favouritism towards you, but you could see the proud glimmer in his eye when you completed a task successfully. While he stayed away from mentioning the other agents and your connection to them, he did once say to you that “the others watching were very impressed” with you, and you knew what he meant.

During the first task, when the room had flooded, you weren’t sure what to do at first. You were a light sleeper and woke up before it reached the top of your bed. Breaking the metal rail off the end, you tried to use it to crowbar the door open. The flimsy metal had snapped in your hands, and you had to use all your willpower to keep from panicking. You were pretty sure that Merlin or the others would not let you die, but you didn’t want to fail. Casting around desperately, you were at a complete loss for what to do. 

“Pipes!” A guy across the room yelled. “Take the pipes from the shower and put them through the toilet!”

“What?!” You shouted. “How the fuck does that work?”

He splashed over to you, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. “Trust me.”

You didn’t know him, but you let him pull you along. When you arrived at the showers you realised there were only six hoses, and twelve people. Panic started as others started shoving eachother away, trying to get to the pipes first.

“Stop!” You roared, ripping one stringy looking guy off a petite girl. He bulled towards you, preparing to fight, when the guy who had taken hold of your arm stepped in-front, seizing hold of his arm and blocking him from swinging at you. You gave him a thankful look, before continuing. “If we fight about this we’ll all fail! Buddy up, everyone!” The room was fast filling with water, so you had to explain quickly. “Just like scuba diving, okay? Buddy breathing. Put in the mouthpiece or whatever, inhale, exhale, inhale, pass to partner, and long exhale when they’re taking their turn. Pass it back and forth. Once we have a breathing system established we’ll look for a way out.”

Everyone, despite the panic on their faces, had paused to listen. The water was now up over the beds, reaching your stomach. 

“Come on,” the guy from before grabbed your hand, tugging you over to the toilet as he began to shove the pipe through. You watched him anxiously, never having heard of this maneuver before and so unsure it would work. Biting your lip at how long it was taking, you twisted to look over your shoulder. One girl stood over by the wall, lingering there even though the water was quickly flooding the room.

“What are you doing?!” You roared. “Buddy up!”

She hesitated, before quickly nodding and wading through the water. Your partner managed to push the pipe to where he wanted, and took an experimental breath of air. He made a face, but passed it to you. You sucked on the straw experimentally, feeling air rush into your lungs. It worked.

You nodded at him, and the water rose to your neck. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed hold of the sink beside the toilet, and used it to pull yourself underneath the water. The buddy breathing begun, as your eyes desperately roved the room for a way out. If this was all they were going for, the water would have receded. But it obviously wasn’t, they wanted you to escape.

The door was a no go, and the vents had sealed over. You twisted, turning to look behind you. All you could see was the window, which you presumed was unbreakable. Unless… It was the only option. 

Tapping your buddy on the arm, you pointed to the window. He stared at it for a long second before nodding, bubbles streaming from his mouth. You passed him the hose, and began to swim away. He gently grabbed your arm, shaking his head. You nodded, trying to yank yourself away. He pointed to himself, and then the window. You shook your head. Rolling his eyes, he pointed to himself and you, and then the window. After hesitating for a few moments, you shrugged and nodded.

He had decent muscles, and would help you break the window quicker. Both taking another breath, you swam quickly towards the window. He reached it first, drawing up in-front of it. He examined it critically, before drawing back his fist and slamming it into the glass. It shuddered, and you suddenly knew you were correct about this. Knowing you couldn’t punch your way through, you held onto the bar above the window, and began to kick with all your might. A small crack appeared, and you repeated the action. 

You could feel yourself beginning to run out of oxygen, and a burning spread through your body. Glancing over at the guy beside you, you could see he had also cracked the window. Gritting your teeth, you gripped the bar tighter, and swung your body as hard as you could at the glass, feet hitting at the same time that your partner struck it.

It shattered, and next thing you knew it broke. You were swept inwards, fingers ripped from the pole as you spilled into another room. Bodies slammed into yours, and you yelled in pain. You’d have some serious bruises later. The water swept you over to the far wall, slamming you into it, and others into you. Coughing, you pushed a leg off your back and crawled onto your hands and knees. Drawing in ragged gasps of fresh air, the burning in your lungs began to cease. An arm clumsily patted you on the back, and you looked up to see the blue eyes of your breathing-and-window breaking buddy.

He was handsome, tall and muscular. His black hair hung soaked on this forehead, and molecules of water beaded his bare chest. He gave you a white-toothed grin, and you felt yourself returning the gesture.

“Good job,” he told you, seeming to be sincere.

You smiled back at him, and replied, “thanks. You too.”

A dripping hand was offered your way, and you took it. He pulled you to your feet, but instead of letting go he shook it. 

“I’m Daniel,” he said politely. 

“_____,” you replied, returning the gesture.

You stood there, his warm hand clutching yours, taking in his handsome and strong body. His grin widened, and you felt heat crawl up your cheeks. And just like that, you were a goner.

 

***

 

You and Daniel received top marks on that test, him for knowing about the u-bend in the toilet system, and you for stopping panic and promoting teamwork. While you got the recognition for the idea to test the window, Daniel also got points for risking himself to help you break it as quickly as you could. 

In the first week three out of the twelve students were let go for low marks on the first test, and on their theory exams. Nine remained

A few days later after one your theory lessons, Merlin took you all outside, pointed to a pile of stacked of crates, and told you to choose a puppy. Daniel was immediately over, running towards a small Golden Retriever with excitement written plain on his face. Your eyes were on a German Shepherd, but another guy, Andre, reached it first. Cursing, you cast your gaze around for something else to catch your eye. 

The crates at the very top contained a beagle, a yorkshire terrier and a bulldog. In the row beneath was a boxer, a pointer, and Daniel’s golden retriever. The German shepherd that Andre had snagged was on the right in the bottom row. The middle segment contained an old English sheepdog, while the crate closest to you contained a dog you weren’t completely sure about.

It indeed looked like a German shepherd, but its fur was different, not just in colour but also in texture. The hairs seemed shorter, and the fur was oddly patterned with brown mixing randomly with black. Large ears stuck up on its head, and it had a long muzzle. It panted contentedly, paws that looked too big for its little body crossed languidly in-front of it. 

You approached it curiously, and it cocked its head with interest as it looked at you. Its solid tail thumped on the ground in greeting, and then it lifted its head high and yawned, revealing sharp white fangs. A small giggle escaped you, as it was definitely pretty cute.

Crouching before the cage, you reached out and unlatched the door. It swung outwards, and you leaned in. The puppy sniffed your outstretched hand, before licking it gently. Its tails wagged profusely. Looking into its eyes, it happened again.

Once more, you were a goner.

Smiling, you leaned further into the cage, scooping the puppy into your arms. It squirmed a little, but you held on. Carefully staggering to your feet, you held the puppy out in-front of you. It was a girl. Her tail beat against the air, and she lazily gnawed on your fingers.

Clutching her back to your chest, you looked up at Merlin. “What kind of dog is she?”

“That one,” he said, checking his clipboard, “is a Dutch shepherd. Extremely similar to a German shepherd. Just as intelligent, some would argue even more driven.”

You nodded. Your mind was already made up, but now it was time to confirm it. “She’s mine.”

A small smile crossed Merlin’s lips. “As you wish, lass.”

You smiled at him, before looking down at the puppy. She wriggled, trying to lick your face. 

“Hello, cutie,” you cooed.

“Any idea what you're going to call her?” Another voice interjected.

Looking up, you noticed Daniel now standing before you. His puppy was nestled in his strong arms, eyes closed as it took a nap. Your puppy yipped loudly at it, but the golden retriever didn't respond.

“I'm not sure yet,” you smiled at him. “How about you?”

“I'm going to call this little guy 'Bond,’” Daniel answered with a slightly embarrassed laugh. “I know, I know.”

You chuckled, before lifting your puppy up to stare into her dark eyes. She snapped playfully, revealing her little fangs once more. You had to admit, you liked the idea of giving the puppy a name with meaning, with a nod towards this whole experience and the path your life was taking. Wanting it to be perfect, you decided you’d figure it out later, and so the sheet of paper was left blank for now.

Everyone lined back up, and Merlin fixed you all with a stern stare. “This puppy is now your responsibility. You will feed it, train it, and it will grow with you.”

The rest of the day passed quickly enough. You had to run laps with your puppy, but you were not allowed to carry it. Your little one was full of energy, running obediently beside you and gnawing on her leash. Arriving back first, you picked her up into the air, holding her above your head in celebration before bringing her to your face to plant a kiss on her nose. She squirmed again, tail lashing against your arm and tongue licking your cheek. 

It was later that night, reading a book, that you decided on a name. Guinevere seemed too pompous for a this rough-and-tumble dog, so you went with the other one. 

“Hello Morgie,” you smiled, scratching her gently on the head. Morgana. Like the sorceress in Arthurian legend.

“Cute,” Daniel spoke up from his bed, smiling at you. 

Your cheek heated up, unaware that he had been listening to you. “Thanks.”

And it continued on. Shy looks cast each other's way, compliments. When you woke up in the morning he was the first person you looked towards. Every time you caught him glancing at you, you felt your cheeks heat up and your heart begin to stutter slightly. You’d had crushes before, and this was indeed a strong one.

Merlin knew, you could see it in the middle smirks that grew across his face when you and Daniel talked, when you stood close together. You simply glared at him, warning him not to say anything. He didn’t, just paired you and Daniel together more often than not. 

The first time Daniel kissed you was in the pantry. It was breakfast time, and all the bread and milk that had been laid out was gone. Merlin selected you both to go get more. You knew what he was playing at. 

All too aware of Daniel’s presence behind you, you walked into the pantry in silence. He followed, and you heard the door shut behind him. The sound made you cringe, aware that people may think something was going on. Refusing to turn around, you instead looked around the shelves before you. Up on the top shelf was a loaf of bread.

Stretching up to your tip-toes, you strained as you tried to grap it. It was too no avail as you weren’t tall enough. Something brushed your side  and a body touched against your back, pressing you forward into the cabinets. 

“Let me,” Daniel’s voice was husky in your ear as he reached up.

Heat tingled through you, and you tried to ignore it. WIthin a few seconds the pressure pushing you forward was gone. You turned around, and started in shock. Daniel was standing close to you, so close that you could feel his breath on your face. In his hands he clutched the loaf of bread. SIlently, eyes boring into yours, he passed it to you.

You took it with trembling fingers, eyes dropping to rove over the label. And then you put it on the counter beside you, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and pressed your lips against his.

Yeah. Scratch that. He didn’t kiss you. You had kissed him.

He responded feverently, one hand going to the small of your back and pulling you closer to him while the other held the back of your head, tangling in your hair. He backed you into the shelves, causing them to shake as you collided with them. A container of bran flakes fell from its perch, bursting open on the ground beside you. You didn’t notice, too caught up in Daniel to care.

It could have continued if one of the other recruits, a friend of yours called Charlotte, hadn’t come to see what was taking so long. You heard her speak, and then cut off as she caught sight of you and Daniel. Breaking away from him, you pushed him back, sending him staggering from you as you stared at her like a deer in the headlights. She had paused, mouth hanging open in shock. After a few seconds, she burst out laughing. You did too, hand covering your face in embarrassment.

Still giggling, she pushed into the room. You watched as she retrieved the bread and milk before making her way back to the door. Turning once more, she gestured at you both with a sly smile on her face. “Don’t let me stop you.”

And then she was gone, shutting the door fully behind her. Your gaze turned to Daniel. He stared back at you, brow arched. A wry smile was on his handsome face. 

“So,” he said, moving towards you again. “What was that?”

 

***

 

A few days later, you found yourself walking through the gardens. Merlin had come in that morning, pulling you away from the others. He cited an emergency, but in reality it was because Lancelot had just gotten back from a mission and had wanted to see you. Glad to be out of your communal bedroom, you were enjoying the fresh air as you walked with Lance. Your arm was linked through his, and the pace was slow and relaxed.

“Merlin tells me you that you skip breakfast now,” Lancelot said teasingly. “And Daniel Ryder does too.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Don’t,” Lance laughed. “It’s only me. I’m not going to tell Harry.”

“Please don’t.”

“I swear.” There was a slight pause. “What’s he like?”

“Daniel, you mean?” 

“No, Ronald McDonald,” he rolled his eyes, causing you to laugh at his snarky tone. “Of course I’m talking about Daniel.”

“He’s… Nice,” you said simply, a small smile on your lips. You could feel Lance’s amused gaze on you. “He’s good to me.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, love. But remember…” He trailed off, suddenly shifting like he was uncomfortable. Your confused eyes rested on his face. His mouth curled in a slight grimace, and he sighed before finishing, “don’t get soft. He’s the competition right now.”

 

***

 

Lancelot’s words rang through your head all evening. Even as you played cards with the other recruits, it ran round and round your head. You had been fully aware you were in competition with him, but having James say that had you double guessing. 

Had you been going easier on him since you started seeing each other? You may have toned some stuff down in an effort not to show him up, but it was hardly like it mattered too much? Yeah, you’d let him win a few hand to hand combat fights against you to get his scores up, but you still won most of them… Had Merlin noticed? Had he asked Lancelot to speak to you?

It distracted you so much that you lost the card game, not that you were particularly perturbed by that. That night you thought it over in your sleep, coming to the conclusion that you had stopped trying your hardest. You had gotten distracted. Over a boy. It was embarrassing, especially since Merlin and Lancelot had noticed. You had claimed to want to be a Kingsman all your life, and now a good-looking guy shows up and you go soft. 

No. You would continue to see him, but no holding back now. 

The next morning, you went to breakfast instead of sneaking away with Daniel. He seemed slightly confused, but overall did not seem to mind. He was a nice guy, and he had never asked for you to go easy on him. Merlin caught sight of you at the breakfast table, and shot you a wide smile. You returned it shyly, touched that he so obviously wanted you to succeed. You couldn’t be mad at him for telling Lancelot. His intentions had been good.

However, you were still sleep deprived. When breakfast was over, Merlin began to lead you down the hall towards the training room. Rounding a corner, you passed Harry. He gave you a smile and a wink. That was when your exhausted brain blurted out the stupidest, most idiotic thing that you ever could have said. 

“Hi, Dad.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* Minor Character Death

It had come out then, that you were Agent Galahad’s adopted daughter. The other recruits were understandably pissed. They had known you were dangerous competition, but now they knew you were basically the Kingsman favourite. You had had the advantage of being raised among them, and they all knew you. 

As a result, you were somewhat ostracized. Daniel distanced himself. When you asked him why he said he wasn’t mad because you were Harry’s daughter, he was upset because you hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him. You tried to explain you were told not to tell anyone. His response of, “I thought I wasn’t just ‘anyone’ to you” stung more than anything else.

Charlotte and Henry, two others of the remaining recruits ignored you, with Charlotte especially shooting spiteful glances your way whenever she felt like it. Out of them all, only one other trainee, Harriet, was still kind to you. Like the others, she had seemed put out at first, but got over it fairly quickly. It seemed she understood why you couldn’t say anything.

And so you continued on as best you could, putting all your focus into training. At least you had Morgie. The pup had grown strong and obedient, and was viciously loyal to you. Most nights she lay at the end of your bed, ears perked as she carefully watched the room around you, growling softly if anyone came too close for her comfort.

The day of the parachute jump arrived. You’d noticed Daniel sneaking more looks at you today than he had in the past few weeks, but pushed yourself to ignore it. As much as you liked him, as much as you wanted to make up with him, there was more pressing issues at hand. Following the others, you loaded up into the small plane, taking the seat above the parachute with your name on it. 

It took off, and the excited buzz of the others conversation filled the air. Used to not joining in by now, you instead pulled your knees to your chest and stared out the small window. The ground grew further away as you rose into the sky, trees and houses becoming smaller. 

“Hi,” a quiet voice said softly.

Your head swung around, focusing on Daniel. He stood before you, head bowed slightly. HIs hands twisted nervously in-front of him.

A lump grew in your throat. “Hi,” you responded.

“Can I sit?” He asked, gesturing to space on the bench beside you.

“Sure,” you replied, scooting over. Your heart rate was beginning to pick up again.

He sat down next to you, and neither of you spoke for a few moments. Eventually he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Look, ______, I’m still pissed at you for not telling me about Galahad. But I get it now, I think. Despite all that… The main thing is that I really like you. I want this to work out, no matter what happens. Is that… Is that something you’d be okay with?” The insecurity on his handsome face was the cutest thing that you had ever seen.

Reaching out, you took hold of his hand and gently squeezed his fingers. “That is most definitely something I’m okay with.”

He smiled, blushing slightly. You could see relief in his eyes. His gaze fell to your lips, and for a moment he looked uncertain. You watched as he steeled himself, tongue brushing across his lips nervously, before he tilted your face up and pressed a gentle kiss to your mouth. Smiling into it, you returned it. It was short and sweet, but the best kiss you had ever had.

You drew away just as Merlin’s voice rang out over your earpiece. “Alright everyone, ten seconds to launch. Prepare to jump.”

“To be continued,” Daniel chuckled, dodging in to press another kiss against your cheek.

You giggled as he offered you his hand, helping you to your feet. Bending down, he picked up the parachute by his feet and held it out to you.

“Isn’t that yours?” You questioned.

He shrugged. “I don’t think it really matters.”

You simply shrugged, and let him help you into it. He was such a gentleman. You tightened the straps, and when you were done he stepped forward to inspect them. He confirmed that it was alright with a nod, before picking up another parachute and placing it on his back. Moving forward, you brushed his fingers away with yours, deftly tightening his straps yourself. Heat crept into your cheeks as his eyes followed your movements almost hungrily.

“Okay,” Merlin spoke again. “You have 20 seconds before the plane carries you too far from the landing spot. Jump now.” The light on the wall went green.

The door at the back of the plane opened, letting in a blast of freezing air. Everything began to shake. Daniel’s hand crept down to grasp yours. 

Harriet leapt first, laughing gleefully. Henry followed, letting out a loud whoop as he turned to fall backwards from the plane. After him, Charlotte stepped up to the edge. She hesitated, looking back at you and Daniel over her shoulder. 

“See you on the ground,” she said, and you nodded curtly in reply.

Then she was gone, snatched up by the sky, plummeting towards the earth. And it was your turn now. Still holding Daniel’s hand, you moved up to the edge. You weren’t afraid. Skydiving had alway held an exhilaration for you. Daniel on the other hand, was nervous. Despite the fact you had done this numerous times in training, he’d never gotten over his fear. You tried to tug him to the edge, but he resisted, shaking his head.

“Look, let’s make it into a game,” you said urgently, aware of time going by. “You like ‘the 300,’ right?”

He nodded. He’d told you once it was one of his favourite movies. 

“Okay,” you continued. “We’re gonna ask out that one scene. C’mon, you know what I’m talking about.”

“The well scene?” He asked, some of his nervousness dissipating.

You nodded, moving until you stood at the very edge of the platform. The wind threatened to tear you off the side, but you fought against it. Eyes fixing on his, you spread your arms wide, an invitation. “Come on, Daniel. I’ve always wanted to do this,” you chuckled.

He breathed out deeply, excitement beginning to shine in his eyes. Carefully, he moved forward, wincing a bit as the plane shuddered. He stopped before you. You stared at him encouragingly, lips curling into a grin. He ran a hand through his hair, and once again you thought about how handsome he was.

“This. Is. SPARTA!” He roared, and pushed his foot into your stomach, sending you flying off the plane.

You screamed, shrieking with exhilaration and laughing loudly. You stopped yourself spinning, looking up just in time to see him diving off the plane after you. He shouted loudly, words you couldn’t make out over the roar of the engine and the wind in your ear. Twisting down, you saw the others below. They had formed a ring, each laying flat in the air. Streamlining your body, you adjust your course to head towards them. Soon enough, you joined the ring of your falling peers. Glancing around, you just saw Daniel as he zoomed in to your side. You reached for him, fingers fumbling together before you could completely get a grip on him. Around you the others were cheering, somersaulting, enjoying the sensation of freedom. Nothing else had ever felt like this.

Daniel pulled you closer, his hand grabbing the side of your face as he pulled you in for a kiss. You laughed into his mouth, hand raking through his hair. You spiralled down through the air, laughing and shouting, spinning and flipping.

“Having fun?” Merlin chuckled into your earpiece. “Well, I wonder how you’d all feel if I informed you that one of you doesn’t have a parachute?”

There was a brief moment of shock, before the yelling began. A few seconds of total panic, before Charlotte shouted loudly. “Form a circle, grab hands!” 

You all obeyed, you gripping Daniel on your right, and taking hold of Henry’s hand on your left. “I’ll go first!” She instructed. “Whoever doesn’t have a chute, the person on their right need to just grab them. Ready?!”

Everyone nodded, loud yells of confirmation filling the air. You watched as she reached for her pully, her face white and terrified. Her eyes locked on yours, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She pulled the tab and her parachute unfurled, dragging her away from the group and up into the air.

_ Fuck. _ Your heart was in your throat. 

Henry went next, his parachute also opening without issue. Your wide eyes fixed on him as it yanked him out of the downward spiral. And then it was just you, Daniel and Harriet. She went next, a strange, focused expression on her face. She looked at you and grimaced slightly. Her eyes were panicked. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead simply pulled the tab on her jacket. Her parachute shot open, dragging her away from you.

Turning back to Daniel, you saw his eyes wide with fear. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you fell, plummeting towards the earth. You made the mistake of looking down, and wished you hadn’t.

“Hey!” It was a shout, but sounded like a whisper against the roaring wind. Daniel’s other hand fastened on your free arm, pulling you towards him. “You first.”

Fear was gripping you, but you managed to nod. It made sense. You didn’t think Merlin would give the faulty parachute to you, even to prove a point against favouritism. He wouldn’t. Sentimentality would cloud ability to be impartial.

“Hold on,” you told Daniel, your voice coming out stronger than you felt.

He nodded, swallowing, and pulled you closer to him. He pushed his arms through the straps of the parachute that were against your chest, gripping either tightly. With your right hand you reached up for the tab that would unfurl the chute, the other going around his shoulders to grip him against you.

“Ready?” You asked, hearing the fear in your voice.

His face was deathly white, but he nodded. Squeezing your eyes shut, you took a deep breath and yanked the tab. The moment seemed to drag out forever. But then there was the rustle of fabric behind you. The parachute unfolded, stopping your descent with a hard lurch. You bounced into the air. You felt Daniel’s grip slip at the sudden jerk. His hands scrambled desperately for a hold and you screamed with fear, gripping him tighter. You could hear Merlin shouting for him to hold on. 

It was no use. The wind caught him, tearing his grip away. His arms slid from the straps. You reached, grabbing at his hands, his arms. It was no use, he slipped.

He fell away from you, spinning towards the rapidly oncoming ground. Unable to do anything, you simply gripped your straps and screamed, unable to tear your eyes from him as he fell. Tears leaked down your face, blurring your vision.

“You have a chute, Daniel! Pull your chute!” Merlin screamed over the earpiece.

Relief washed over you.  _ He had a chute?! _ Daniel’s hands flew upwards, trying desperately to grab hold of the tab that was windmilling around on its string. His fumbling fingers wrapped around it. Your heart was in your mouth as you watched. His arms bunched as he pulled, and the parachute on his back popped open. It shot up, unfurling with a loud snap, and jerking him in the air. You breathed a sigh of relief. 

And then there was a crack that almost made your heart stop. The strips holding the parachute to his back both snapped, breaking in two, tearing the balloon of fabric away into the wind. And he plummeted down.

He was free falling now, without a parachute. Without anything. You could hear Merlin shouting again, desperate, afraid. Daniel spun and you could hear him scream, a sound you knew would haunt you forever. Tears clouded your face and you howled with him, a sound of heartbreak and agony. 

Daniel hit the ground. 

You saw figures running across the field towards him. 

All you could do was get down there and see was he alright. In the back of your mind you knew there was no way he could have survived. But a desperate hope held out. Struggling to keep control of your descent, you landed as close as you could, not even noticing you had made it inside the circle. Shouting his name, you struggled to peel off your pack. Freeing yourself, you ran towards the body on the ground, stumbling in oyur haste. He was blocked from your view by three people crowded around him. Merlin, Tristan and Lancelot. You could only see his foot peering out from between their bodies.

“Daniel!” You screamed, running towards them.

The men swung around, faces white and panicked.

“Stop her!” Merlin shouted, but Lancelot had already sprang into action.

Rushing forward, he collided with you, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you away. You fought against him, kicking and scratching, cursing and calling him every name under the sun. He didn’t react, just whispered calming words into your ear as he wrestled you away from the scene. As hard as you fought, you weren’t thinking. Grief and pain were messing with your ability to think clearly, to be able to calculatedly get past him. Still, your struggling made it hard for him to hold you steady. 

“Get her out of here,” Merlin instructed, before turning back to the body on the ground. 

Fending off your hands, Lancelot crouched, arms wrapping tightly around you as he lifted you up. You tried to see over his shoulder, but his free hand fought to cover your eyes. Throwing you over his shoulder, he carried you back into the mansion as you kicked and screamed, pounding your fists against his back. Too blinded by tears, you didn’t even realise he’d brought you back to his room until he threw you onto his bed. You curled up, sobbing into your hands. Lancelot stood above you, an agonised expression on his face as he looked at you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Love, I’m so sorry.”

“You have to let me see him,” you sobbed, face feeling sore. You could barely open your eyes, they were so sore from crying.

“I can’t, love. You don’t want to see that.”

He sat down next to you, trying to pull you into his chest. You struggled away, scabbing back over his duvet until your back was pressed against the headboard.

“I don’t understand,” you cried, body shaking with the force of your sobs. “Merlin said he had a parachute. He said it worked.”

“I know, I know,” Lancelot shook his head. “The exercise is only a rouse. You all have working parachutes. There was some malfunction with Daniel’s. It’s going to have to be investigated.”

“Is he dead?” You already knew, but you had to ask.

Lancelot just shook his head, barely able to look at you. Hands going back to your face, you pulled your knees against your chest and sobbed. His hand touched you, careful incase you moved away again. When you didn’t, he tugged you against his side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your hand gripped his shirt, and he let you cry into his jacket. You stayed there for what felt like forever, until he disentangled you from him. He leaned over, peeling back the bed covers and coaxing you in there. Unable to argue and feeling empty inside, you obeyed without argument. He tucked you in, stroking your hair and whispering reassurances. 

Your tears fell onto the pillow as you cried silently. The mattress rose as he stood up. Your hand shot out, grabbing hold of his arm.

“Will you stay with me?” You whispered.

His hand took hold of your own. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

 

***

 

You must have fallen asleep. When you next opened your eyes, which were sore and puffy from crying, you registered soft voices. Lancelot was standing by the door to his bedroom. It was ajar, and he was speaking to someone in a near whisper.

“Who is it?” You asked, pushing yourself up.

At the sound of your voice there was silence, before someone shoved past Lancelot and into the room. 

Harry. 

Your eyes fixed on him, on the concern and worry in his expression. You felt your lower lip quiver as tears began to soak your cheeks again.

“Oh, peanut,” he whispered, moving towards you. “I’m so sorry.”

You burst into a sob, reaching for him. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you close. Your fists gripped the back of his blazer as you hiccuped into him. He sat down next to you, hand rubbing soothingly over your back. 

“______,” another voice spoke, and you opened your eyes to see Arthur.

A look of concern was on his face as he regarded you. There was gentleness in his eyes, the one he reserved for only you. Breaking away from Harry, you reached for him. He moved closer, fingers brushing yours as he took your hand. His thumb stroked over your skin reassuringly.

“Dear one, we have to ask you some questions,” he told you softly.

You sniffed and nodded, sitting up with your back to the headboard. Harry’s arm draped around your shoulder, giving you strength. Lancelot stood by the door, a troubled expression on his face. Arthur tugged over a desk chair, seating himself just in-front of you.

“This may be difficult to hear, my dear.”

“It’s okay,” you sighed, mopping your eyes with your sleeve. “Just tell me.” You felt numb.

Arthur shared a look with Harry. Behind him, Lance bit his lip. A few seconds of silence spread out, before the older man spoke again. “What happened to Daniel’s parachute was no accidental malfunction. It had been tampered with.”

White noise filled your head. “What?” You stuttered.

“Someone did this on purpose,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “Is there anyone in the group who had a grudge against young Mr Ryder?”

“What? No… No.” Everyone had liked Daniel. He was kind, polite and funny. There was no reason for anyone too… And then it hit you. 

You inhaled, a shuddering, gasping breath. Hand flying to your mouth, you swayed slightly, feeling nauseous and more faint than before. Tears pricked your eyes. 

“Love?” Lance’s voice rang out, filled with concern as he moved away from the door and approached the bed.

“What is it?” Arthur pressed.

Harry’s arm tightened, like he already knew he wouldn’t like the next words you spoke.

“That wasn’t Daniel’s parachute,” you whispered, horror and revulsion growing inside you. “We swapped. That was meant to be mine.”

There was a moment of shocked silence. Harry tensed beside you, his grip on your shoulder becoming so tight it was almost painful. Lancelot’s eyes fixed on yours, and you saw fear there. The man who was never afraid, was afraid for you. 

Beside you, Harry got to his feet, straightening his suit. He seemed calm, but you saw the fury roiling under the surface. He locked eyes with Arthur, the old man staring at him with a similar hardness in his expression. An unspoken conversation passed between them.

“Do what you must,” he told Harry, voice low and dangerous.

Your father nodded. Turning, he pressed a hard kiss against your hair. He spoke, his voice a low growl. “Nothing will ever hurt you again. I promise.” He rose to his full height, staring at Lancelot. “You do not leave her alone, James. No one goes in or out of this room.”

Lance strode to his bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a pistol. He grabbed a new ammo clip, and popped it inside. “Of course, Galahad.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Harry promised darkly, before striding from the room.

You watched Arthur follow him, fear swirling inside you. Lancelot took the seat Arthur had just vacated, turning it to face the door. Neither of you spoke, until you hiccuped loudly, breaking the silence.

Though his eyes were fixed on the door, his words were a promise. “I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

 

***

 

It was hours later when you saw it. You were standing at the window, gazing out over the land surrounding the mansion. Lance had let you borrow his dressing gown, and it swamped you. A cup of tea was held in your hands, which still lightly trembled. 

Due to the angle of the house, despite facing the same way, the view from Lance’s room did not look over the side where the helipad was located. Where Daniel had landed. You were thankful for that. Though it still looked out over the front of the mansion, including the winding road that led to it. Sipping your tea, your eyes focused on a car making its way down. A police car. You frowned.

“Lance?” You said questioningly, your voice quiet.

His head snapped towards you. Immediately, he was up off the chair and striding towards you. You heard the safety of the gun click off. Stopping beside you, his eyes also fell on the police car. His brows raised in confusion. Together, you watched as it stopped outside the house. Two officers got out, their gazes intent on the front door of the manor. From your vantage point, you could not see exactly what they were looking at.

And then people moved into your view. Harry and Arthur strode towards them, a smaller person walking in between. Your eyes narrowed in on them. You recognised the red hair, the slim stature. 

Almost as if she felt your gaze, Harriet looked up. Her eyes locked on you through the window. You almost dropped the cup you were holding. Her expression was blank, slightly pale. But her eyes were dark, filled with anger and a malicious hatred. Suddenly, she broke away from Harry and Arthur. She only managed two steps before Harry got hold of her, dragging her back. 

“It was meant to be you!” She screamed, her face twisting in rage. 

Harry lifted her away, the police officers rushing to help him. Not that he needed it. Opening the door, he grabbed the top of her head and shoved her in, sending her sprawling across the back seat. Lancelot moved in front of you, trying to get you away from the window. You pushed him back, wanting to see this. Needing to see it. 

She glared at you and you stared back. You felt your lip curl. The sadness was replaced by fury. You spoke with a snarl, and though you knew she couldn't hear you, she’d be able to read your lips. It had, after all, been part of your training.

“One day, I’m going to kill you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: The part at the end of this chapter takes place a couple of months after Daniel's death. It may seem crude, but everyone has their own healing process.

They told you later that they had used a truth serum not known about in wider society to question candidates. Under its influence, Harriet had admitted to tampering with your parachute. The reasons she did so was to get rid of you, the main competition, the Kingsman’s daughter. With you gone, everyone else would have a fair chance. 

She had had help, unwitting as it may have been. Henry, who was the best hacker out of all of you, had managed to turn off the security cameras and unlocked the door to the recruits’ bedroom during the night. Harriet had told him it was because she wanted to read the training files, to see how well she was doing and where she could improve. Henry had agreed, asking her to look at this file also. 

Harriet hadn’t noticed you switching parachutes with Daniel, and Henry was shocked when he found out what happened. She was handed over to the authorities, and would be charged with murder. Henry, who had not meant to participate but had broken Kingsman rules, was kicked out of the program.

Charlotte, the one who’d seemed to dislike you more than anyone, was entirely innocent. You didn’t see her all that much anymore. After the incident you were both given a couple of weeks to recover. During that time you slept back at Harry’s house, in his bed. Morgie was always curled into your side, her head resting on your body as you slept. You couldn’t sleep if she wasn’t there. Despite the fact that in sensing your upset she had growled at everyone that came near you, she didn’t growl at Harry. He slept on the ground, between you and the door, on your mattress that you had dragged into the room. 

It was… Hard. Thinking about Daniel hurt. Thinking about training hurt. For the first week you mostly slept, days blurring into one another. 

On the second, Harry took a firmer stance. He would wake you at nine, order you to shower, make you breakfast, and accompany you on a walk around the neighbourhood. It was funny, you couldn’t care less about becoming a Kingsman now, and Harry, who had never wanted you to join, was pushing you so you wouldn’t fail. One morning you asked him why. He shrugged, chewing on a piece of toast.

“Because you’ve always wanted this. While you don’t think you do now, you will again. I’m not going to have you miss your chance.”

His words must have resonated somewhere deep inside, because you began to try again. Focusing on training helped you forget, focused your mind on other things. In the few days leading up to starting back you began to go for jogs. Lancelot drove out to pick you up in his flashy car, the grey convertible you loved so much, and brought you back to the manor. He had you spar with him until your whole body ached. You asked if it was unfair, if you were being given even more of an advantage. He just shrugged and said Charlotte had still been training. He was just helping you get back into it.

When things started back up properly you threw yourself into it with reckless abandon. If anything, you were more concentrated than before. You didn’t hold back, punching harder and kicking higher. Charlotte rolled her eyes as you left her covered in bruises, but there was a happiness there when she looked at you. She’d never say it, but she was glad you were okay.

The next challenge came, you were given a target to seduce. A young man with flawless dark skin and a wide, toothy smile. Harriet had the same target. Sitting in some upscale club in London you vied for his attention. He went to get a drink, you found Charlotte slumped into you, her eyes closed. You didn’t feel too great yourself. A man stood before you, laughing. It was hard to stay awake, and you fell into unconsciousness.

When you woke up, you were tied to train tracks in a dark, dingy tunnel. The same man stood before you, wearing black gloves. He had a wicked expression on his face. The ground underneath you began to tremble. In the distance, you heard a horn.

“Oh my God,” you hissed, attempting to thrash around. 

The ropes were tight, digging into your skin. There was no wiggle room.

“Who are the Kingsman?” The man asked with a growl, watching you as you tugged at the ropes as much as I could.

“The ones who couldn’t fix Humpty Dumpty, you fucker,” you hissed, tears in your eyes. “Get me out of here!”

“Not until you tell me,” the man crooned, crouching down to smile at you. “Let’s try this again? Who are the Kingsman?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, alright?” You cried. “You have the wrong person, let me go!”

He laughed, removing a knife from his pocket and twirling it around in his hands. The shaking on the ground intensified. You could see light against the far wall at the end of the tunnel. The train was coming.

“Please, I don’t know,” you begged. 

You couldn’t give them up. They were your family. You couldn’t simply betray them.

“Who is James Spencer?!” He shouted, as the blast of the train horn filled the air.

“Please!” You screamed, yanking wildly at your restraints. You could feel the light of the train pour over you. The roar of it filled the air.

“What about Daniel Ryder?!” The man hissed, pulling a folded A4 page out of his jacket pocket and holding it up to you. On it was a young man, smiling face, dark hair and blue eyes. You stopped struggling. The man’s eyes shone, sensing victory. “What happened to him?”

Your eyes locked on his. You opened your mouth, and he leaned forward to hear you better. “Fuck. You.” You clearly said.

The train ran over you. And then there was silence

Your eyes had been squeezed shut. A few seconds ticked by where you felt no pain, so you opened them. You were in a shallow hole, still tied to the train tracks. A mechanical whir sounded by your ear, and the ground underneath you lifted up, bringing you level with the rest of the floor. Peering forward, towards where the man had been, you saw he gone. Another person stood there.

“Well done, love,” Lancelot said warmly. 

He had a knife in his hand. Approaching you, he crouched down beside you. His fingers were gentle as he carefully cut away the rope from your wrist. He helped you into a sitting position, before starting on ridding the restraints from your ankles. You simply rubbed your sore wrists, not speaking. When he was done, he looked back at you. His smile faded at the expression on your face.

“I didn’t know he was going to say that,” he told you softly. “We give him some access to your training files, and he picks out what he’ll say to you.”

You nodded, but could still feel the upset swirling inside you. He rose to his full height and offered you his hand. After brief hesitation, you took it. Once you stood, you dusted yourself done. He waited, his eyes concerned. Finally, you sighed and spoke.

“How did Charlotte do?”

He brightened, a grin crossing his face. It revealed his white teeth, and made him look younger. “That’s the best part, love. She failed. You’re through.”

“Seriously?” You asked, eyes wide. For a moment, everything else was forgotten.

“Yes,” he laughed. “You did it.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. For a moment you stared at him, waiting for him to say he was joking. When he didn’t, you shrieked and lunged forward. Your arms wrapped around him. His own arms circled you as he lifted you up in the air, spinning you around. You laughed, burying your face in his neck. When he put you down, you stared up at him with a happy smile on your face. Slowly it drained, being replaced by a seriousness you rarely felt. His own happy look started to fade, being replaced by confusion and worry.

Rising onto your toes, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” you said simply, “for believing in me.”

He blushed slightly, something that didn’t often happen. It was even more amusing when he brushed you off with a wave of embarrassment. “Don’t mention it.”

“No, seriously,” you continued. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Thank you, James.”

And there it was, you using his name again. The air around you took on a strange quality. You saw him swallow heavily, his eyes locked on yours. Once more, you found yourself thinking about how handsome he was. It shocked you out of whatever trance you had gone into. 

Immediately, guilt and upset flooded you. With an awkward smile you pushed yourself away from him. Turning to face the dark tunnel, you tried to get a grip on yourself. Daniel had only been gone for a few months. Granted, it was longer than your relationship had been, but even thinking about another guy as good-looking had you feeling disgusted with yourself. 

No, there was nothing to this. You were happy and sad at once, and it was just messing with your head.

Exhaling quietly, you plastered a smile on your face and turned back to Lancelot. His bright eyes peered at you curiously. You gave him a wry smile, and gestured around. “C’mon, can we get out of here?”

 

***

 

While you were the only recruit left, you still had to complete the final task. This meant that you had 24 hours alone with Lancelot to prepare. He didn’t tell you much, just that it was nothing physical, nothing you needed to be alert for. That evening he took you for a drive. You climbed into his car, a fast, expensive looking thing that was his pride and joy. He never let anyone else drive it.

Climbing into the passenger seat, you put on your seatbelt and watched him climb in too. It being a convertible and since it was a nice day, he put the roof down. He drove you out to a forest, hours away from the manor, singing along to old songs and making you laugh. Wanting to capture the moment, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. Opening the camera app, you told him to smile and held it out over the side of the car. He did as asked, and you snapped three in a quick row. When you were done, you scrolled through, examining each before deciding the second one was the best.

“I’m gonna get this printed,” you told him with a smile.

He peered at it quickly from over his sunglasses before turning back to focus on the road. “Send it to me too.”

You did as asked, before settling back into the seat. 

The day passed quickly. He drove for hours, and then you got out of the car and walked around the woods. He had brought food. Nothing special, just a few sandwiches the cook had whipped up, and of course the usual flask of tea. You hiked to the top of the hill and ate them there. It was a beautiful place, full of greenery and nature. He told you his father had brought him there often when he was younger. He had come here just before joining the Kingsman.

You stayed there for a while, but then the sky suddenly started to darken. Without warning, the sky opened up and rain began to pour down. Thunder boomed, and lightning crackled. You ran back to the car. Turning on the radio, you listened to the weather alert. 

A storm. Citizens encouraged to seek shelter and remain indoors. Driving conditions were dangerous. 

Lancelot sighed, and rang Arthur. You rang Harry. They told you not to worry about being late, to stay somewhere for the night. It wasn’t like you needed to hurry back. You were the only candidate. And so, you opened Google and began to search for nearby hotels. Settling on one, you headed for it.

 

***

 

“And of course it has to rain,” he laughed, staring at the door to the hotel.

Water ran down the windows of the car, and you had to laugh. It was coming down in buckets, and you were going to get drenched running for shelter. Of course, a storm had to choose tonight to strike.

“Did you not check the weather before driving miles from home,” you laughed.

He looked annoyed, shaking his head. “I checked it the other day. No sign of this.”

“Come on,” you grinned, hand going to the door handle. “Race you inside.”

Flinging the door open, you leapt out. Immediately, rain began to drench your clothes. Shrieking, you tried to cover your hair to no real avail. You heard Lancelot spilling out of his side of the car, and so you began to run. Feet pounded over the ground, splashing through puddles. You heard him yelling behind you, and redoubled your speed. 

You made it first, and waited a few seconds for him to catch up. Laughing, you made your way into the lobby. It was a small hotel, and they only had one room left. Happy to just have somewhere to stay, you took it. Trooping up the stairs, you scanned the key and pushed the door open.

It was spacious enough, with two beds. Immediately, you booked it to the bathroom. Peeling off your soaking clothes, you dove into the hot water. When you had warmed up and felt better, you stepped out. It was only then you realised you hadn’t brought a change of clothes, and your current ones were soaked through. Grumbling to yourself, you had no choice but to hang them up. 

The only things that were okay was your vest, bra and underwear. It would be awkward, stepping out in that, but you had no other option. A strange feeling stirred in your chest, a nervousness at the idea of being semi-naked in front of Lance, even if it was only for a few seconds before you got into the bed. Clamping down on it, you steeled yourself and pushed the door open. You still held the towel in-front of you, trying to shield yourself a bit.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you quietly closed the door. Turning around, you caught sight of Lancelot standing in-front of you, and froze. His wet hair left trails of water running down his face, and he had stripped from his wet clothes into just his boxers. Your throat went strangely dry, and you swallowed slightly. He seemed equally as frozen, before he forced a strained smile onto his face.

“I hope you left some hot water.”

“There should be plenty,” you responded, feeling weirdly embarrassed.

He nodded, before starting to walk forward. You moved to the side to let him past, and his body brushed yours. A wave of heat washed through your stomach. 

_ What the hell had come over you? _

He strode into the bathroom, closing the door quickly. You sighed, running a hand down your face. Too tired to dry your hair, you just walked towards the bed you had claimed. Picking up the remote on the nightstand, you turned on the TV. Settling on the news channel, you watched in silence. A while later the bathroom door opened and Lancelot came back out. You tried not to look at him.

He paused at his bed, and started like he was going to say something. You didn’t answer, and he just got into his bed. Biting your lip, you searched for something to make the moment less weird.

“I’m going to turn off the TV now, unless there’s something you want to watch.”

“No thank you, I’m alright.” He was strangely polite.

Nodding, you put the remote back down. Laying in your bed, you stared at the hotel ceiling. The fan above whirred silently. It was cold in the room, but you didn’t want to get out and go to the air con to turn it off. It was at the other side of his bed, and you were conscious of how under-dressed you were. So you decided to wait.

As much as you tried to stop it, your teeth were chattering. It made your face heat with embarrassment, knowing he could hear. The whole thing had gone from funny to awkward pretty quickly. You could hear his breathing in the darkness, and knew he was awake. Turning over and away from him, you tried to push the jumbled thoughts out of your head.

_ He was older than you. He was your friend, your best friend. You were pretty sure you didn’t like him, not in that way. Not exactly. _

Then why was there this urge to cross the room and slide under the covers with him?

So caught up in your own thoughts, you hadn’t realised he’d slipped out of his bed and slowly moved across the carpet. The covers on your bed moved, thrown back, and you felt him climb in beside you. Your heart rate sped up.

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly.

“I can hear you shivering,” he replied, a tension in his voice as he tugged the covers back up. “I don’t want you to freeze.”

You wanted to tell him it was okay, and you were about you until his shoulder brushed your back. His skin was warm, and instinct took over. You rolled around, burying your face in the spot under his neck and moving as close to him as he could get. His arm draped around your waist. You heard him swallow, and then he chuckled lightly. It sounded strained.

“Harry would kill me if he ever knew about this.”

You laughed softly in response. “Well, I’m not going to tell him.”

“Thank you,” Lance replied. “I rather like being alive.”

“Don’t we all,” you teased, before your mind flitted to Daniel. Immediately, you went silent. This reminded you of the times he would crawl into your bed during training, and spend the night with this arm around your waist.

“Are you thinking about him?” Lancelot broke the silence.

Moving out from being curled into his neck, you rested your head on the pillow. From there you could look at him straight in the face. “Yes,” you replied honestly, “I’m always thinking about him.”

His hand rose to stroke your cheek, a movement both comforting and affectionate. You leaned into it.

“I wish I knew how to make you feel better,” he said honestly, eyes downcast.

For a moment, you didn’t answer. “I just want to forget for a little while.”

His eyes shot up at the strange note in your voice. He had heard it, the tone. You knew he had guessed the connotation. His arm became stiff from where it draped around your body. You felt his chest shudder slightly.

“Love…” He started.

“Lance,” you replied quietly.

“It’s not a good idea,” he continued. “I’m so much older than you… Like, Christ. I’m almost forty.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” you said, annoyed. “But for the sake of accuracy, you’re thirty-eight.”

“And you’re in your early twenties.” He seemed frustrated. “Fucking hell.”

Kicking off the covers, he scrambled out of the bed. You watched as he crossed to the far end of the room, pacing back and forth. His hand ran down his face, through his hair. You could see him at conflict with himself. You knew he wanted to. The whole scenario, the mess that the past few months had been, had caused some slight shift between you two.

“You’re my best friend,” he said, turning towards you. “How ridiculous is that?”

“Don’t insult me,” you shot back. “You’re mine too.”

“I’m not trying to insult you,” he groaned. “I’m trying to talk myself out of doing this. This,” he gestured between the two of you, “this will never last.”

“I know,” you answered neatly.

He stopped. “You know?”

“Lance, I don’t look at you and think ‘future husband.’”

He struggled for a moment, spluttering, not sure how to respond. In the end, he settled for, “thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” you replied simply.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, before bursting out laughing. It died down after a couple of minutes, the serious air filling the room once more. This time, it was you who rose from the bed. Crossing the room, you stood in-front of him. He was half-naked, dressed only in a pair of blue boxers. At least they weren’t satin. He looked good, chest still toned and muscular.

You crossed your arms over your chest, aware that your vest did not cover a whole lot of your chest. Your legs were cold, the air sweeping over your bare skin. The curtains were open, rain flecking the window. A bolt of lightning lit the sky, momentarily illuminating Lance’s face. 

“Come on,” you said softly, reaching for his hand. “Let’s just go to sleep, this is weird.”

He allowed you to take his fingers in yours. Your skin broke out into goosebumps at the touch of his warm skin. You stepped back, tugging at him. He didn’t move. You paused, arching a brow. 

Then he yanked you towards him, his other arm circling your waist. He kissed you. And you kissed him back. His lips moved firmly against yours, the kiss of an experienced man. 

After a few seconds, he broke away, his forehead pressed against yours. “I want to do this,” he said softly, “but I want us to stay friends even more.”

“Me too,” you whispered. “This happens once. Only once.”

He nodded, before leaning again. This time the kiss was hungrier. He kissed you with an open mouth, his tongue brushing across your bottom lip, gently touching your own. Turning you around, he pushed you against the wall, hard, causing you to gasp. It was cold and solid against your back. Your nails scratched down his chest. He growled softly, and next thing you knew he was lifting you into the air. He never broke the kiss as he carried you back towards the bed. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and he gently placed you back down on the bed. 

Breaking away, you watched as he reached for his wallet on the nightstand. Rifling through it, he pulled out a small silver packet. Grinning at you, he placed the edge into his mouth, holding it with his teeth, and tearing it open. You went to take it from him, to help him put in on. Instead he just laid it down on the duvet next to you. 

“Not just yet, love,” he laughed. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this properly.”

 

***

 

The next morning was a little awkward. At least you could laugh about it, though the memory of last night brought heat rushing to your cheeks. Since your clothes had been hung up overnight they were mostly dry, so you put them back on. You had breakfast at the hotel, sneaking looks at Lancelot as you ate your fry. A few times he caught your eyes and would wink at you, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment.

After breakfast, you headed back to the hotel where you showered (separately). The bathroom at least had a hair dryer, so your hair was not the worst it had even been, though you probably would have benefitted from the straightner. Once you were both ready, you left.

Walking out to the parking lot, you were lost in thought. Last night had been amazing in a weird way. You’d slept with your best friend. Jesus Christ.

“Here, catch,” a voice said, knocking you out of your trance. 

You looked up just in time to see car keys heading towards you. Fumbling slightly, you managed to catch them. Eyes wide, you looked at Lance. “Are you sure?”

“You drove a bit last night, so I’m not worried.”

You frowned, trying to figure out what he meant. Then it dawned on you and your eyes widened. He burst out laughing at your expression. Raising a finger, you cautioned him. “Don’t.”

The joke had a positive effect. It seemed to open up some kind of boundary, where you could make fun of the incidence of last night. The awkwardness dissipated. It was just two friends laughing about something they’d done together.

 

***   
  


You did drive back, without incident. It was around lunchtime when you returned. Pulling into the driveway, you looked up the steps. Harry and Arthur were standing up there, waiting for you. Morgie stood next to your adoptive father, wagging her tail. In the passenger seat, you heard Lancelot exhale loudly. Chuckling, you turned to smirk at him.

“I’m telling my dad on you,” you said, making your voice high and whiny like a petulant child’s. 

“You are not,” he laughed, though he still seemed slightly afraid.

“Just act normal,” you advised. “It’ll be fine.”

Turning back, you kicked the car door open and began to walk towards the waiting group. Morgie, recognising you, began to bark loudly. You called to her, and she came rushing down. She didn’t jump on you, just leapt around you in circles, causing you to laugh. You bent down to pet her, playing with her sticky-up ears and running your hands through her fur. 

When you finished greeting her, your attention turned to the two men. You jogged up the steps towards them. Harry stepped forward, pulling you into a hug. Footsteps rang out behind you, and you twisted around to see Lancelot slowly walking up the steps behind you. 

“Thank you for looking after her, James,” Harry said.

Before you could stop yourself, you snorted loudly. The men looked at you questioningly. You covered it up with a fake cough. One glance at Lancelot showed the tips of his ears were red.

“No problem, Harry,” he responded stiffly.

You smothered a giggle, before turning to Arthur. The older man was watching you, a proud look in his eyes. 

“Get into your suit and meet me in my office in half an hour,” he ordered warmly. “Bring the dog.”


	6. Chapter 6

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. The wood was heavy and firm against your fist. Beside you, Morgie panted happily, excited to have you back. You ran your fingers through her fur, smiling at her.

“Come in,” Arthur called.

You took hold of the handle and pushed the door open. Peering around, your eyes came to rest on the older man. He was sitting in an armchair, dappled sunlight shining through the windows and falling on him. He took you in, hair and make-up now immaculate, wearing a pressed and tailored Kingsman suit. He smiled at you, his eyes gleaming.

“Take a seat, my dear.”

You did, and Morgie sat beside you. Arthur moved, leaning over and taking hold of your hand in his. “I knew it would be you.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

“Now, what does being a Kingsman mean to you?” He asked, removing his hand.

“Everything,” you answered honestly. “It means everything to me.”

“Good,” he smiled.

Lifting his arm, he reached into his pocket. Your brows furrowed curiously. His hand came out, and in his lean fingers he held a gun. Watching you carefully, he handed it to you. Taking it gingerly, you turned it over in your hands. The light reflected off it, dancing along the walls. After a few seconds, you looked back at him, unsure of what was being asked of you.

“This would be the part where I tell you to shoot the dog,” he stated, nodding towards Morgie.

You froze, shock running through you. In your chest, your heart began to pound. _What?_ Tearing your gaze from Arthur, you looked at the animal by your side. She stared up at you. Seeing that she had your attention, her tail thumped on the ground. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth and she panted happily. She stared at you, and you saw love and trust in her deep brown eyes.

You were about to speak, to say you couldn’t do it. To call it off. Because you loved her, and you would never kill something you loved. He could see it on your face, as you held the gun out to him, handing it back.

He didn’t take it, just simply spoke again. “I’m not going to tell you to shoot the dog.”

You paused, letting this sink in. “Why?”

“I know you. I’ve known you since you were two weeks old. I don’t need to question your ability to be loyal. I would with any other recruit. With this challenge… The dog symbolizes emotional attachment. It means _family._ Prospects have to choose between love for their family and loyalty to the Kingsman. For you, this is one and the same. This test is invalid when it comes to you. Strangely paradoxical, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you agreed, feeling relieved.

“If you were to shoot the dog, I would _then_ have reason to doubt your loyalty,” Arthur chuckled. “And to let you in on a little secret, the gun is loaded with blanks anyhow.”

“I should have known,” you chuckled. You had memories of playing with Mr Pickle as a child. That wouldn’t have happened if Harry shot him. _Did Harry know, when he did this?_ The thought was strangely disturbing.

Arthur rose to his feet, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hurriedly stood with him, brushing down your lap. He waited until you were done, and held out his hand. “Congratulations, Agent Bedivere.”

_Agent Bedivere._

_You._

Almost bursting with happiness, you took his hand and shook it firmly. He laughed, and then pulled you in for a hug. “You are officially, irrevocably, one of us,” he whispered. “Not that were ever anything but. Now, it just happens to be on paper.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” you whispered, embracing him tightly as happy tears filled your eyes.

He patted you on the back and let go, stepping away from you. “Now,” he waved you off, “go tell your father. Though something tells me he’ll be right outside that door.”

He was.

When he saw you yank open the door, the wide smile almost splitting your face in two, he let out a triumphant yell. Shooting forward, he swept you into his arms. You returned the embrace, laughing loudly.

“Agent Bedivere,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m going to have to get used to calling you that now.”

“I’m going to have to get used to hearing it,” you giggled.

“Come on,” he said, placing an arm around your shoulders. “I have a little surprise for you.”

He led you to the dining hall. The corridors of the mansion were strangely quiet. His face grew more excited the closer you came to the hall. Staring towards it, you couldn’t hear anything behind the large oak door. Eyes fixing on Harry questioningly, he motioned for you to open it. Pushing the handle, you did.

It swung inwards, revealing a large group of people crowding the hall. They turned at the sound of the creaking hinges, eyes fixing on you. Music spilled out. And the cheering started, loud and triumphant. Covering your face with your hands, you tried to stop the happy tears from spilling over.

They were all there. All the agents you had grown up with. Your pseudo-uncles, every single Kingsman agent, had come back from wherever they were in the world to be there for you. It was touching. Your eyes roved over them all, drinking them in.

Palmedes, sporting a tan from his most recent mission to Ecuador. You wondered if he’d brought you another magnet from there. The radiator in your room was covered in them.

Geraint, who’s barber had once again cut his hair far too short for his liking. He’d been the one to secretly buy you drink when you were fifteen years and going to your first house party. Two hours later he had had to come to pick you up, because what you had told him you were getting to share had really been all for you.

Lamorak, who still got you an Easter egg every year, even though you were an adult. Always the creme egg one, always the larger version. You thought he might have stopped when you turned eighteen, and then every year since. He didn’t.

Gawain, who never failed to write every single month, no matter where he was in world. Sure, his handwriting was barely legible, but it was the thought that counts. The fact that no matter where he was or what was doing, he never forgot about you.

Tristan stood at the side, the only other person as competitive as yourself. A bit of a happy-go-lucky daredevil, his eyes were gentle and affectionate as he grinned at you.

Beside him was Percival, quiet and reliable. More of a friend than an uncle. He didn’t need to speak, to say anything to you. His eyes said it all. The feeling in them made you want to cry.

Lancelot stood at the side, leaning against a pillar with his arms folded and his eyes fixed on you. You could see the fondness there, and smiled back at him. He winked, not flirtily, just his usual friendly demeanor. Lifting his glass to salute you, he took a sip. Last night hadn’t seemed to change anything, and you were glad.

Footsteps beside you made you turn, and Merlin and Arthur strode into the room. The Scot moved up to touch your shoulder. He leaned in, his breath puffing against your cheek as he whispered in your ear.

“You deserve this, lass. Well done. I’ve never seen anyone do better.”

You were pretty sure was being polite, but his words touched you all the same. Smiling shyly at him, your eyes fell on Arthur. He was watching you curiously. When he noted that you were looking at him, he gestured towards something in the middle of the room. Your head turned to follow his direction, peering around.  

And then you noticed someone in the centre, half hidden as he was sitting down in a wheelchair. Your mouth flew open. Before you knew it, you were racing across the room. The others patted your back as you pushed past them, before dropping to your knees in-front of the chair.

“Vincent.”

“Hello, my girl,” he smiled, reaching out to pat your hair. His eyes shone as he looked at you, but there was a sadness there too. “Welcome to the Kingsman.”

You took hold of his hand in both of yours, leaning to press it against your face. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”

“I would only do it for you,” he chuckled.

 

***

 

It happened again. Two more times.

One was a few weeks after your induction. You stayed up late playing poker, until it was just the two of you. You once again swore it would never happen again. And then it did, on a mission in Havana. You agreed not talk about it then, to just focus on getting the assignment complete. So you did, and you returned to England. Almost immediately he was called in to Arthur’s office, and then sent to Boston for a month. In that time you thought it out fully. It didn’t seem long before he came back, but you knew that you were going to say. And then you had no choice but to talk about it.

It wasn't the kind of conversation that you had at the mansion for fear that someone would overhear. Merlin had already seen you sneaking out of Lancelot’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning after the poker game, so you knew you couldn’t risk anything again. You also didn’t want to go somewhere one of the others would be likely to turn up, because once again no one was to know.

This was why you chose a random bar in a part of London the others would not particularly frequent. You had dressed down in an effort to blend in, but of course Lance still stuck out. He just couldn’t get the concept of dressing casual. You were in a grey t-shirt with a picture of a skull on it along with the words “sunshine and fuckin’ rainbows,” and a pair of ripped jeans. Lancelot was in a blazer, shirt and slacks. You wanted to face-palm.

At first neither of you spoke, just sat there awkwardly sipping your drinks. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “It can’t happen again.”

“I know,” you agreed, “and we have to be serious about it this time. We have to mean it.”

He nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, love. I enjoy it but…”

“There’s no real feeling behind it,” you finished, seeing his relieved look as he knew you understood as well. “I mean, I love you, Lance. You’re my best friend. We just don’t…”

“Click in that way,” he supplied.

“Exactly,” you said, flicking your straw at him. “I think we do it to distract ourselves from whatever problems we have. To feel good.”

“I would agree,” he chuckled. “Time to face things head on, like adults.”

You shuddered jokingly, and he laughed. His face suddenly dropped, becoming serious. “This won’t change things, will it?”

“I don’t want it to,” you said earnestly. “We were always friends. Always. So let’s just go back to that. We’re just dropping an activity, kind of? It’s like if two friends go to a zoo a few times and suddenly decide they’re better off not going to the zoo anymore.”

He shook his head in amusement, smiling softly into his drink. After a few moments he raised his eyes to you. They were filled with affection. It didn’t make your skin heat up anymore. Whatever had existed was gone. It made sense. It had come from a place of need, and that need simply no longer existed.

“That is the weirdest way to put it,” he stated.

“It is true though,” you supplied.

He shrugged, glancing around the bar. It seemed like he was debating whether or not to say something. You thought about telling him to just have it, but decided that may scare him into keeping quiet. Instead, you simply waited. Finally, he opened his mouth. “I met a woman over in America.”

Your eyebrows shot up. That was unexpected. You paused, looking inside to see if you were jealous. No pang of envy existed inside you, just happiness that he may have found someone. Reaching across the table, you took hold of his hand. “James, that’s great.”

His face brightened when he saw you were serious. “You think so?”

“I do,” you nodded. “You deserve to be happy.”

For a moment his face shone, before a frown twisted his face. “Kingsman aren’t meant to have families.”

You laughed, gesturing to yourself. “I think the rules may have changed a little.”

“We’ll see,” he chuckled, shrugging. “You should be happy too. Find someone your own age.”

You sighed, shaking your head a little as you took your hand back from his arm. “I may wait a bit. I think I have a little more healing to do after Daniel.”

“Understandable,” he said kindly. “But when you are ready, there’s a whole world of boys out there who would be lucky to have you. You just have to look.”

“I don’t really want to be looking,” you answered. Downing your drink, you rose to your feet. “I have a feeling that if he is out there, I’ll just run into him. Now, I’m going to get another drink. Do you want one?”

“I’m alright, haven’t finished mine,” Lancelot gestured to his own whiskey.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a few,” you called over your shoulder as you pushed through the crowded bar.

Reaching it, you ordered another gin and tonic. Hendrick’s. One lemon and one lime. It took a few minutes, you simply allowed your eyes to rove over the bar. It was filled with men, laughing and shouting exuberantly. One group of younger men in the corner were being extra loud, laughing at something the group joker was saying. You ignored them. When your drink arrived you thanked the bartender with a smile, handing over a note. You didn’t wait for change, simply headed back towards James.

It was difficult, with one hand holding a full glass and the bar being so crowded. You were vigilant, keeping an eye out for someone slamming into you. But you didn’t see him. He appeared out of nowhere, right in-front of you. Before you could stop yourself you collided with his chest, letting out a slight ‘oof.’ Your drink spilled over the edge, some onto you and some onto him.

“Hey!” You said indignantly, annoyed.

“Sorry, love,” he replied, seemingly slightly drunk. “You alright?”

You took him in. The funny guy from the rowdy group in the corner. He was taller than you, and fairly decent looking. Muscular build. Light brown hair, blue eyes, cocky grin that would make some girls weak in the knee. He was dressed in a black adidas tracksuit, both top and bottom, with an orange snapback on his head. Totally not your type. But there was something about him, some gentleness and apology in his face that had the anger leave you.

“It’s fine,” you sighed, motioning past you. “Carry on.”

He paused, like he was going to say something. Obviously noting the tired expression on your face, he thought better of it. Ducking his head, he walked past towards the bar. You returned to Lancelot, shaking your head as you sat down.

“What was that?” Your friend asked, motioning at the wet patches from spilled drink down the front of your top.

“This guy came out of nowhere,” you shrugged. “I just ran into him.”

Lancelot waited, watching to see if you figured out the irony of your words. An amused smile curled his lips as you sipped on your drink, completely oblivious. Shaking his head with a rueful smile, he cast a glance back to the guy you had run into. He couldn’t help but think that he looked a bit familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses for who was at the end? 
> 
> Now, time for the good stuff. If you want to see Bedivere and Eggsy properly meet, I would suggest you take the next exit over to the following fic, 'The Instructor.'


End file.
